


captured the look in your eyes

by nothingbutniall



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, WTFock Season 2, babies in love, ft. some Brussels' highlights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: Zoë and Senne explore Brussels. Senne turns out to be a proper Instagram boyfriend.





	captured the look in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> These two deserve to be happy so here's a quick fic giving you exactly that.  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Title comes from Jonas Blue's Polaroid.)

Brussels Central Station is buzzing with that electric atmosphere you only ever truly get in metropolitan cities. While Zoë loves Antwerp, it’s no more than a village after living in places like London and Madrid. Brussels feels like a whole other world compared to Antwerp and she revels in it.

Senne takes her hand as they walk through the station, letting her lead the way. They pass a man playing guitar and it takes her a second to recognise the song as _The Night We Met_ , but then she smiles and squeezes Senne’s hand. He squeezes back affirmatively – he’s recognised it, too. She regrets not having any coins on her to drop into his hat. Maybe on the way back, if he’s still there.

The sun is out in full force when they walk out onto Mont des Arts, the trees lining the paths providing some welcome shadow. Kids are running around, playing tag between the trees, and Senne pulls her closer to avoid her getting run into by an overenthusiastic five-year-old. He drops a kiss to her hair and no matter how many times he’s done that since they started dating, it still gives her butterflies.

“Where to first?”

“Magritte Museum. It’s right up there.” She points up the hill, the museum building not yet visible from where they are walking.

When they had decided to take a day trip somewhere in Belgium, Senne had given her free range to map out an itinerary. She’s not sure if he’s into art, let alone surrealism, but the promise of Belgian waffles would probably lure him into doing anything.

“Selfie?” she suggests when they reach the top of the stairs at the end of the little park.

“Sure,” he says easily, sliding his phone out of his pocket and holding it up, positioning them in frame. “Smile!” He pokes Zoë’s side right as he takes the picture, and she jerks away with a laugh.

“Senne!” She taps to see the picture. “You ruined it, look how blurry I am.”

He grins. “It’s an improvement.”

She steps on his toes in retaliation. “Come on, do a proper one.”

They end up taking a series of pictures, some smiling, some pulling faces, some kissing. Zoë plans on printing a few of them and sticking them on her wall for the days that doubt creeps in and makes her second-guess Senne’s intentions. The look in his eyes in these pictures is all she needs to remind her that he’s as smitten as she is.

After their impromptu photoshoot, it’s only a short walk up-hill to reach the museum.

Inside, it quickly becomes clear that Zoë is there to look at the art, and Senne is there to look at Zoë. He dutifully listens to her observations, nodding when she compares Magritte and Dalí, but she can tell from the blank look on his face that he has no idea why Magritte’s surrealism is more subtle than Dalí’s.

Her heart feels like it’s bursting with fondness and she leans in for a kiss, taking it slightly further than she normally would in a public setting. An older woman gives them side-eye and they break apart with a suppressed laugh.

Zoë turns back to the painting she was admiring while Senne lingers behind her, taking sneaky pictures as she explores. She catches him a few times, a blush colouring her cheeks, but she doesn’t tell him to stop, so he doesn’t.

After spending too much time in the museum shop (and ending up buying nothing), they make their way back down the Mont des Arts, strolling towards the heart of the city centre.

They pass a small church, barely more than a chapel, and Zoë tugs Senne in.

She has always liked churches. Not because she’s a devote Christian – she barely knows the words to the Lord’s Prayer – but because all churches carry the same peaceful aura. Anywhere her family moved, Zoë needed to find her footing again, make new friends, learn a new language, get used to different traditions.

Churches offered her an escape, away from an ever-changing world. She simply breathes easier when the wooden door falls closed behind her and her gaze moves up along the piers to the stained-glass windows.

She doesn’t know how to explain that to Senne, doesn’t know how to put those feelings into words, but when she looks beside her, his face is serene, and she realises he might understand better than she thinks.

They sit down near the back, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, and listen to the tunes being played on the organ.

Minutes pass in silence between them.

At the end of one of the aisles, candle flames cast orange shadows on the wall.

If she closed her eyes, Zoë could be anywhere. She turns her head slightly and presses a kiss where Senne’s neck meets his shoulder. She’s glad she’s here, with him.

When they finally leave the church, the sun hits them, both of them squinting their eyes to adjust to the bright weather again.

There are a lot of tourists milling around, popping into the many touristy shops that line the streets towards the Grand Place, and they have to weave their way through. It’s too warm to hold hands properly though, so instead they loosely link their fingers together.

On the Grand Place, she asks Senne to take a picture of her in front of the guild houses. He wastes no time and starts snapping away immediately. He takes multiple pictures, telling her to change pose every other second.

When he crouches down to get a better angle and nearly gets bumped into by a tourist, she can’t hold back a laugh. “Stop it, you idiot.”

“Why?”

“You’re making me laugh.”

“And that’s a problem, how? You’re pretty when you smile.”

She shakes her head and walks up to him, taking his hand and pulling him up. “When did you turn into an Instagram boyfriend anyway? Did I miss that memo?”

He pecks her lips. “Can’t help it when I’ve got such a hot girlfriend,” he says with a pleased grin.

They take a few more pictures of the two of them together before Senne manages to spot an empty table on one of the many terraces around the Grand Place and they take a seat. The sun hits Zoë’s face at an angle, making her brown eyes glow amber.

Senne takes his phone out and snaps another picture. “Beautiful.”

Before Zoë can roll her eyes at him, the waiter hands them each a menu. Being in Brussels, it’s evident that they’re gonna go for some Belgian waffles. Zoë orders her with fruit, while Senne goes for whipped cream and Nutella.

When the waiter walks away from their table, Senne leans back in his chair, hooking his foot around Zoë’s ankle.

“This is nice,” he says with his eyes closed, basking in the sunlight.

Zoë hums affirmatively, sneaking a picture of her own. She thinks about posting it on her Instagram story, but decides to keep this moment to themselves for now. She could upload the picture later.

She smiles at the thought. “Senne?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He opens his eyes and shoots her a soft smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Something settles in the pit of her stomach then, warmth spreading through her veins. Yeah, there’d be plenty of other opportunities to show off her boy. They had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of Brussels love in this fic!
> 
> Please leave a kudo or a comment telling me your thoughts, or come talk to me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall) if you want to vent about the clips.


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